


Whiteout

by ghostpun



Series: Birdmen Drabbles [2]
Category: BIRDMEN - 田辺イエロウ | Tanabe Yellow
Genre: Drabble, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, So many emotions, eishis on an emotional rollercoaster, this is a bit old but yknow oh welll, yknow what i love? whiteout content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 17:24:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18833281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostpun/pseuds/ghostpun
Summary: It's something about the blinding light, the sight of a missing friend, that always messes with Karasuma.





	Whiteout

**Author's Note:**

> im just really proud of this drabble okay

Karasuma, waking up in the dreamscape again, was more pissed than curious, this time.

The white hurt his eyes, made his eyes pound. He hasn't slept well in a while. It didn't help that each dream was plagued with this asshole. Takayama smiles at him, the feathers floating around him as if submerged in water. His subconscious really was a bitch.

"Why are you here again?" Karasuma barks, crossing his arms. "I'm tired of only seeing you here. If you really cared, you'd actually contact us." 

Takayama says nothing, and really, did he expect Takayama to reply? This was only a figment of his imagination.

"You need to take more responsibility." Karasuma continues. "It's rude as hell to abandon your friends like that." He glances to the side, feeling his own words pierce his own heart.

"I'm not abandoning you." A voice reverberates from the other.

"Shut up." Karasuma says, annoyed at the dream's gravity as he floats closer to the other. "I don't want to hear what you have to say."

Takayama is quiet again, and Karasuma feels the anger start to leave out of him as the minutes drawl by.

"Please say something again." Karasuma says, voice barely above a whisper. "It's a lot worse when it's silent."

Takayama says nothing, as if someone had pressed pause.

"I'm sorry for snapping," Karasuma says, feeling himself flip upside down, on the same orientation as the other, "but I'm really upset." He cups Takayama's face, face scrunching up as he looks, really looks, at the face of the friend that's been missing for weeks.

"We miss you." Karasuma says, moving his thumb to caress the other's cheek.

He feels Takayama shift ever so slightly, leaning into the touch. Karasuma feels so many things bubble up through his chest. Hope? Embarrassment? Dread? It swims around him like the ever shifting light.

Takayama's eyelashes flutter, still closed, and Karasuma can't help but to press his forehead against the other boy's.

"God, I really am a mess." Karasuma breathe hitches, and he feels tears bubble into his vision. "I can't even tell if I'm mad at you or not." His voice cracks. Tears stream down, and Karasuma sniffles. His throat feels hot, and it feels oddly realistic here, despite dreaming. He screws his eyes shut for a moment, tears falling a bit more. He opens them up to notice Takayama's eyes open, eyebrows pinched up.

It's the most emotion Karasuma's seen on this version of himself.

Takayama shifts his forehead off of Karasuma's own, but not enough that he's too far. Their noses are right next to each other, and Karasuma feels a puff of Takayama’s breath on his cheek.

“Don’t cry,” Takayama whispers, voice concerned.

Another sniffle. “This sucks.”

“What does?” Takayama’s hands lift up to press against Karasuma’s, who are still cupping Takayama’s face.

“A lot of things. Life, parents, school, missing friends,” Karasuma eyes look down, “missing crushes.”

Takayama says nothing, eyebrows raised up in shock.

If Takayama wasn’t hear in the real world, Karasuma could at least tell this made-up version of him how he felt.

Sadness washes over Karasuma’s body, in the same wave that chills encompass him. 

“It’s dumb,” Karasuma says, “I doubt you even feel the same.”

He notes that Takayama’s hands slide down to hold his wrists. Notes that Takayama slowly tilts his head, and Karasuma only has a split second to register what’s happening before Takayama quietly slots their mouths together. The motion is so, so soft, much softer than the other scenarios Karasuma daydreamed this happening in. No adrenaline of fighting a blackout, no crashing of lips in anger on the school rooftop, just the feeling of chapped lips pressing hesitantly against his own. Karasuma exhales softly through his nose, closing his eyes to let himself enjoy the moment he doesn’t think will ever come in the real world. He bumps their noses together, and gravity lifts him up slightly, causing him to tilt Takayama’s face up so they don’t break the kiss. Takayama lets go of the other’s wrists in favor of wrapping his arms behind Karasuma’s back, and everything seems almost too good. The warmth of Takayama’s arms, the soft kissing, the burst of butterflies fluttering around his stomach, all of it something Karasuma desperately needed. They break apart, and Karasuma feels lighter than air. He buries himself in Takayama’s hair, and it’s a lot softer than he had imagined.

“You’re wrong,” Takayama whispers, as he buries in the crook of Karasuma’s neck. “I feel the same.”

“Oh.” Karasuma can only reply. A part of him stings into his abdomen a reminder that all of this is fake.

The edges of the world start to fall away, and Karasuma knows that he’s caused this dream to end.

He holds onto Takayama a little longer, breathes in. He still smells like he remembered.

“Come find me.” Takayama whispers, and Karasuma wakes up back in his room, alone.


End file.
